


An evening backstage with Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison.

by CreativePenguin



Category: Jimi Hendrix Experience, The Doors
Genre: Drinking, Drugs, Humor, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6725512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativePenguin/pseuds/CreativePenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The door bursts open and the artists enter the backstage room. While Harvey Brooks, who played bass that evening, goes to sit with Buddy Miles, the drummer, Jim Morrison sits down in the sofa as Jimi Hendrix grabs a beer out of the fridge, Jim doesn't even have to walk that far - he reaches in his back pocket and takes out his flask of whiskey. As he takes a sip or two, Jimi lights his first cigarette in hours and starts praising Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An evening backstage with Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was created in collaboration with [ http://visiongaming.nl/ ](http://visiongaming.nl/)

Sometime in March 1968, Jimi Hendrix played a jam session together with Jim Morrison, the infamous lead singer of the Doors, at the Scene Club in New York City. Jim got wasted even before the show got started, resulting in him wallowing on stage and foul mouthing into the microphone. Nothing special, thus. Just a usual night on stage with Jim, as you can hear for yourself on the bootleg version of the jam that came out on vinyl years later, under the title ‘Woke Up This Morning And Found Myself Dead.’ But whatever happened after the gig, when Jimi stopped recording? The rest of the evening might have gone a little something like this.

The door bursts open and the artists enter the backstage room. While Harvey Brooks, who played bass that evening, goes to sit with Buddy Miles, the drummer, Jim Morrison sits down in the sofa as Jimi Hendrix grabs a beer out of the fridge, Jim doesn't even have to walk that far - he reaches in his back pocket and takes out his flask of whiskey. As he takes a sip or two, Jimi lights his first cigarette in hours and starts praising Jim.   
Jimi: "It was a pleasure playing with you Jim. After listening to your albums, I was really looking forward to it. I’m glad we finally managed to get together and jam. "  
Jim: (burps) "Same here man. I loved your version of ‘Red House’ tonight. You really rocked it. We totally should get together one more time. Maybe we can even start a band together."  
Jimi: "You're joking me, aren't ya. You'd have to be hella more sober if you wanna record an album with me, man. I'm very meticulous when it comes to my work, you know. Besides, you've got a great thing going with Ray and the guys, right?"  
Jim: "Yeah, it's cool, you know. They're cool, we do have a positive thing going with The Doors. I'm still keeping my eyes open for other options, though. You never know, it might click really well with someone, musically."  
Jimi: "You don't seem to settle with what you have. Will it ever be enough for you?"  
Jim completely ignores his critique and continues daydreaming with a slight arrogance: "That would be so cool. You and me man, the greatest poet in the world guided by, well, a fairly good guitarist. We could call ourselves... Mr. Mojo Risin' and ... Hi Mr. Jinx, Die."  
Jimi: "What the fuck are you talking about Jim. You're so arrogant. What the hell is Mr Jinx anyway?" 

Jim: "That's why I'm the greatest writer and you're just a guitar player, man." 

They both laugh, although Jimi's laugh is somewhat less enthusiastic.   
Jim: "Mr. Mojo Risin is an anagram of my name, Jim Morrison. It means, forming a different word or combination of words with the same letters. Just as Hi Mr. Jinx, Die is an anagram of Jimi Hendrix."  
Jimi: "Seriously? Okay, two things though: Jimi is my artist name. My actual name is James Marshall.”

Jim: “Cool. I was born James as well, James Douglas.”

Jimi: “Nice. Anyway, secondly: I'm a black man with very little school education. Why would you think I know what an amalgam is?" 

Jim: "An anagram man. Although it could be an amalgam as well."  
Jimi: "Whatever you say, my man. I trust you know what you're talking about. You're the poet, you're the word man."  
Jim: "I'll always be a word man, better than a bird man."

The conversation goes silent for a while, as both legends sip from their drinks and smoke a Lucky Strike. Jimi grabs his Fender Stratocaster and plays a little tune, while Jim comes up with some lyrics on the spot: “Hi Mr. Jinx, Die like the Sphinx, hides in his drinks, cries and then winks. Don’t come crawling to Mr. Mojo Risin’. I am Lizard King, I can do anything. I’m jamming with my brother, Mr Jimi, Little Wing. Ain’t it something, ain’t it something…” 

As the rest of the band leaves the backstage room to get involved with the crowd, the conversation between the two takes a different direction.  
Jimi: “You know you were behaving like a proper drunk asshole tonight, Jim. Especially your rant during ‘Uranus Rock’ went a little over the top.”

Jim laughs sarcastically: “Gee, thanks buddy, I appreciate that. Yeah, I guess tonight wasn’t the greatest session. Thank heavens there’s no recording of it, right?”

Jimi: “Actually, I did record it on my two-track tape recorder. I keep copies of all of my jams. For personal use, you know. I’m working on my new album, it’s due this year so I use my recordings as research material.”  
Jim: “Alright, sure thing. As long as it never gets released officially, I’m cool with it.”  
Jimi: “Cool man, thanks. Listen, I need to get stoned. I’m gonna roll one.”  
He takes out a little green bag and starts rolling a joint. 

Jim watches him. “I have a question, since you’re left-handed n all yeah. When you roll a joint, do you use a filter?” 

Jimi: “Yeah.”

Jim: “Do you keep it on the left-hand side or on the right end?”  
Jimi: “I can do both, but I usually keep it on the right. It’s more comfortable to roll. Why are you asking?”  
Jim: “There goes my whole theory down the drain. So far, you’re the first left-handed person I’ve asked that doesn’t keep it on the left. I thought it had to do with the preferred hand of a person, you know. Left-handed people tend to use the right hemisphere of the brain more, all that? So it made sense to me that they keep their filter on the left as well.”  
Jimi: “You’re talking out of your ass Jim, it has nothing to do with that. It’s the way we have learned how to do it, you know? Shit, I was 8 years old when I made my first doobie. My cousin taught me, I remember.”  
Jim: “So your cousin, was he left- or right-handed?”

Jimi: “I don’t know man. It doesn’t matter, does it? That’s what I just told you. It has to with how you learned to do it. Not with your preferred hand.”

Jim: “Yeah, but well, if he was right-handed, then my theory would still count somehow, you know? Because if he was right-handed, then...”   
He stops and thinks about what he’s saying.  
Jimi interrupts his process: “No, Jim, listen, listen, no no no. What if some left-handed guy taught him, you know? No matter whether he taught him to roll with filter on the left, or filter on the right. It doesn’t matter, does it? Besides, what if my cousin changed his way of rolling from however he learned it from another guy? Left handed, right handed, doesn’t matter right?”

Jim grins: “I guess you’re right. Either way, I’m too wasted to think about that right now.”  
They toke the spliff and turn a bit woozy.  
Jim: “This is good shit, man. Which bud is it?”

Jimi: “The only kind I ever smoke: purple haze, of course.”

Jim: “I should have known… Hey Jimi?”  
Jimi: “Yeah Jim?”

Jim: “I was only joking, you know. You’re a really great guitarist, if not the best in the whole world.”   
Jimi: “Why thank you Jim, I really appreciate that. And you are the single greatest singer-songwriter I’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a stage with.”

The two look at each other and pat each other on the back. Suddenly they hear loud banging on the door and Jimi opens up to see who came to bother them during their intimate bromance. Two beautiful teenage girls shyly smile and wave to Jim, who’s slumping on the couch. 

Jim: “Hi there, girls. Come on in! Mr. Mojo and Mr. Jinx were awaiting your arrival.”

Without hesitation, the two giggling girls walk in the room and join Jim in the sofa. 

Jimi looks at him, slightly shocked. “Is this how you’re enjoying the rich rock star life, Jim? What would Pam say if she saw you here with these two?” 

Jim: “Oh, Jimi, live a little. Where's your will to be weird? And besides, I don’t see my wife around and you’re not gonna tell her, so what she don’t know won’t hurt her… Jimi, my friend, meet my lovely lady friends, Summer and India.”  
The two girls continue giggling and start caressing both guys.

Jimi: “Right… ignorance is bliss huh.”

Jim: “Hey man, a-men to that. Amen to that, my beautiful friend.”

 

This is The End.


End file.
